


What nature hides

by CamilleDuDemon



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Fun with angsty feeling, Gen, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is Hannibal, M/M, Will is SO done, less humour than you might think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 01:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10865964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamilleDuDemon/pseuds/CamilleDuDemon
Summary: “Happy birthday, Will Graham. And...uhm...sorry for your time.”Will cocks his brow then, suddenly, he feels fully awake.Functioning.He might have been half-asleep, but he's far from stupid.“How...how can you possibly know that it's my birthday?”, he asks, his tone harsher than he intended.He perfectly knows that this isn't the right question, yet it's the first that popped up in his mind.The younger guy flinches as if Will's legitimate doubt came totally unexpected.“I was told, of course”, he innocently replies.





	What nature hides

It's three in the morning when Will Graham's well-deserved rest gets abruptly interrupted by a muffled – yet insistent – knocking at his door.

It takes him a few moments to get up and crack it open, considering that his mind is still hazed by sleep and his body is lazily uncooperative.

“Yes?”, he yawns, with his eyes half closed.

There's a textbook high schooler standing on his wooden patio, with his hands deep in his pockets and an oversize envelope at his feet.

“Uhm...Will Graham?”, he tentatively asks.

The FBI profiler rubs his sleepy, swollen eyes.

 

_The very portrait of vulnerability._

 

“It ain't easy for sure, but someone has to be”, he mutters, unintentionally cryptic.

The younger guy frowns at his unusual response, then he decides that he doesn't give a damn and unceremoniously hands Will the huge, brown envelope.

“Happy birthday, Will Graham. And...uhm...sorry for your time.”

Will cocks his brow, then suddenly he feels fully awake.

Functioning.

He might have been half-asleep, but he's far from stupid.

“How...how can you possibly know that it's my birthday?”, he asks, his tone harsher than he intended.

He perfectly knows that this isn't the right question, yet it's the first that popped up in his mind.

The younger guy flinches as if Will's legitimate doubt came totally unexpected.

“I was told, of course”, he innocently replies.

A bell starts to ring deafeningly into Will's ears and he needs to take a deep breath to calm his shaking nerves.

 

_Of course he was told._

 

“You were told by...who, exactly?”, he asks, feeling the familiar sting of an incoming migraine behind his burning eyes.

The high schooler rolls his eyes, muttering something that sounds dangerously like “I know I shouldn't have accepted that money...” under his breath.

Will inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index.

“Please...”

The younger guy sighs.

“Fine, I'll tell you...only if you assure me that I won't get into any trouble for this.”

The FBI profiler lets out a small groan.

Being forced to undergo some kid's terms is a lot to take for his pride, but he's glad to accept, if there's no other option.

“You won't, scout's honor.”

“Good. Well, a man approached me at the dog park, shoved five-hundred dollars in the pocket of my jacket and told me to bring you your birthday present. He told me where and when, of course, telling me that you were his dearest friend and some other things that I really didn't understood. I accepted gladly at first...I mean, five-hundred dollars, man! Then...I had a bad feeling about the whole situation”, he says, taking a dramatically long pause to emphasize his words. “I had a bad feeling about him as well...”

Will shakes his head, a small hysterical laugh escaping his lips.

He already understood who's the sender, but his mind refuses to accept the idea.

“A bad feeling, uh?”

The high schooler nods vehemently.

“No offense for your friend, but he was...somehow threatening, although the good mannerism and the generous tip he left me...he had terrifying eyes, actually.”

Will's mouth finally shuts in a perfectly straight line.

 

_Hannibal._

 

“Was he elegant and tall?”, he asks, just to be sure.

Truth to be said, he is already sure and his concerns don't need any further confirmation.

Terrifying eyes and suspiciously good manners?

Who else, if not Hannibal Lecter?

“Yes, he was all dressed up...”

“Sharp cheekbones?”

“Fuck, yes.”

The FBI profiler lets out a frustrated oath.

“Thanks”, he mutters right after to the younger guy. “You're free now.”

He seems happy to be finally dismissed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The envelope isn't heavy, although it's bulky enough to occupy half of his kitchen isle.

Will spends almost twenty minutes torturing himself about whether to open it or not.

A voice in his head cries _Curiosity killed the cat._

Will Graham believes more in the _Satisfaction brought it back_ part _,_ though.

With a loud sigh, the profiler starts to cut the sharp edges with a knife.

The paper looks expensive and smells of musk and wood.

“Please, God, tell me he didn't send me human parts as a gift...”, he whispers.

The only answer comes from his dogs, curiously staring at him with their fluffy heads tilted.

Shaking his head, Will Graham pours himself a cup of cold water, considering the gesture as some kind of break to preserve what's left of his sanity.

Minutes pass.

His dogs stand at attention, some of them wagging their tails, some others just waiting for him to do something.

Or, at least, that's what Will thinks.

“Stop looking at me like that!”, he groans. “I'm afraid, okay? Come on, guys, it's Hannibal Lecter! Who wouldn't be afraid?”

Winston yelps.

He looks far more curious than Will himself, and the profiler feels slightly judged.

 

_Coward._

 

Rolling his eyes, Will Graham goes back to the drudgery of opening a present from Hannibal Lecter.

He has never been a man of faith, yet he finds himself asking god – whichever god may be listening to his prayer – to be merciful with him.

Much to his dismay, the only god his scarred mind is able to picture is Hannibal Lecter.

“All right, let's bite the bullet...”, he mumbles.

Winston barks in response.

 

_Canine pep talk._

 

With shaky hands, Will can finally unwrap his birthday present, delivered just at the very time he was born, 3 am.

Surprisingly, the content of the giant envelope doesn't involve slaughtered human parts.

No ears.

No eyeballs, nor fingers.

Just a huge, thick sheet covered with a thin layer of opaque tissue paper.

The profiler lets out a nervous but relieved laugh.

From what he can see under the protective paper, it looks like a charcoal drawing.

And, elegantly written on some expensive cardboard, there's a message from Hannibal Lecter.

 

_The artist sees what nature hides (1)._

 

Will scoffs.

“Pretentious asshole”, he grunts, as if Hannibal could actually hear it.

When he finally takes the courage to lift the tissue paper, however, all his relief is washed away by the dreadful feeling of having been fooled again.

 

_The artist sees what nature hides._

 

The FBI profiler bites his lower lip so hard he draws blood.

Furiously, his calloused fingers tear the pompous cardboard apart, shredding it into tiny pieces that fall like snow on the kitchen floor.

Hannibal has sketched him in the act of savagely murdering a man, with his guts spread like a flower bouquet all over his blood-soaked shoes.

 

_The artist sees what nature hides._

 

Somewhere, wherever he is, Hannibal Lecter is smirking.

Will knows it for sure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1Quote by Filippo Brunelleschi from _I Medici: Masters of Florence_ , 2016 tv show.

 


End file.
